


Nevada

by Lunarrua



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Succession AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:08:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22041574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarrua/pseuds/Lunarrua
Summary: “What do you want?”Harry’s voice is quiet, rough. It makes Jeff’s entire body shudder. He can’t answer.Then ... kisses, soft, drifting along his cheek, down along his neck. He shivers again, shuts his eyes tighter.“I think I know what you want,” Harry whispers in his ear, his lips hot, then teeth biting into his skin.A Hazoff Succession AU where Jeff is Kendall(esque) and Harry is a singer he discovers in a backwoods bar-room.
Relationships: Jeff Azoff/Harry Styles
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Nevada

**Author's Note:**

> I'd just like to say at the outset that I am a huge Jeff Azoff stan and I don't think he's in any way like the character outlined here. Harry, however ... no, no, I'm kidding. Fiction. It's all fiction.

The desert sand is light, powdery as talc. The wind’s been up the last few days and small gritty clouds whirl in corners, doorways, spin across the pathways that meander through the Centre.

Sometimes Jeff feels like it’s invading him, this beige dust. A quiet parasitic swarm burrowing in through his pores, sipping away the moisture from his eyes, coating the inside of his nose and then he’s ripping off his clothes and standing under the shower, turned to full-force in defiance of the water conservation notice on the wall. Fuck it, he’ll sponsor a fucking panda or something when he gets out of here. He cups palmfuls of water and sluices his nose clear. A perfectly powder-free nose. Just like it’s supposed to be.

A swipe across the misted mirror and he sees himself murkily distorted. He doesn’t belong here - this is very temporary. He’s not like the rest of them. There’s a girl here, some movie-star’s daughter, white bandages taped across the front of her face. Septum repair job. 

There’s Jerry, the creased old rocker, hunched over cigarettes in the cactus garden. He’s missing half an ear-lobe thanks to the sharp teeth of a groupie back in the seventies and a night of LSD and heroin and god knows what else. 

It’s not getting to him, he won’t let it. Jeff is not like these people. Jeff’s rockin’ it. He’s just scoping for an opportunity. His body is whole, his mind is a fucking razor-edge, he was number 27 in Forbes 30 under 30 last year, for fucksake.

“I’m a fucking tiger,” he mutters to his warped reflection, as a reminder. So ... what? Caged? In danger of extinction?

Nope, he’s just, like, hibernating or something. Restoring. A bear, maybe, instead of a tiger. Any day now he’ll be out there again, prowling, hungry and dangerous. Just as soon as Dad says he can. 

But, Jesus, there’s a _Walking Dead_ vibe in this place and he’s fucked if he’s going to let the zombie-virus infect his fucking potential, suck away his life-force or whatever. He’s heading out for a beer. It’s allowed. Sort of. 

Jerry’s in the common room as Jeff passes through. No - in the _Togetherness Space_. He’s rolling sage sticks. He’s alone in there which ... is kind of inevitable if you call somewhere a _Togetherness Space._

He looks up when Jeff shuffles in, snorts instead of returning the smile Jeff’s summoned onto his face. 

“Hello there young Geoffry,” he pronounces it to rhyme with “toff”, “how are you this fine evening?”

“Uh, pretty good,” Jeff replies, his tone light despite the flare of irritation. He’s told Jerry his name like four times now. He’ll overcome. He’s got the social skills. “What’s that you got there? Sage, huh?” 

Jeff’s been trying, like really trying, for this past week, to build a little rapport here. Jerry physically flinched the first time Jeff brought up their connection - that tour his Dad managed for his band in the early seventies. Before they broke up - the first time they broke up - in debt to the label, nerves fried out from the drugs and the chaos. No one speaking to anyone. 

“Yeeeahhh … sage, man,” Jerry drawls. He picks up a twig, waggles it under his nose and inhales deeply. “Keeps the bad juju away.” He looks pointedly at Jeff and sniffs again.

Jeff finds his fists squeezing tight but forces himself to release them. He recites the band’s stats in his head, like a mantra: 100 million records sold, seven number one albums, consistent top-twenty listing in the _Rolling Stone Greatest Bands of All Time _polls.__

__A reunion tour would basically be a big ol’ apple pie._ _

__And it’s, like, the perfect plot twist. Re-emerge from rehab - no, not rehab - return from the ReCentering Experience Spa - with a Pinewood and Jones reconciliation in his back pocket._ _

__His Dad would choke on his coffee. Corner office suite in the bag. Cam would _vomit_._ _

__“Bad juju, yeah,” Jeff makes himself chuckle. “Got that bad juju in those angel eyes…”_ _

__Jerry doesn’t flinch this time at this reference to the song lyric. Just raises an eyebrow and turns his attention back to rolling the leaves of sage into bundles._ _

__“Tommie wrote that line,” he mutters eventually, “wasn’t one of mine.”_ _

__Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_ _

__Fucking error. He’s just ballsed this up, has he? Does Jerry think he’s a dick now, for not knowing? Like, Jeff knows a lot, not just the figures. Knows their songs. Some of them. He knows Tommie stole Jerry’s wife. Or maybe it was the other way around? Shit, didn’t someone die? A kid? Fuck. Maybe he should have gone to those group sessions._ _

__“Maybe one of his better songs ...” Jerry continues, delicately knotting twine around the leaves._ _

__And oh, ok. Maybe, it’s ok. Jeff feels his heart start to slow again. OK. So, there’s some level of respect there. This is his _in_ , maybe, this is how Jeff can … Like, imagine his Dad’s face … _ _

__“You - uh -” he’s trying to hard to keep it so casual it’s strangling him, “you talked to him lately? Tommie?”_ _

__‘Cause Jeff has. Jeff made a call two days into his stay here. Knows Tommie’s up for gigging again - tax bills and alimony payments providing an incentive to letting bye-gones be bye-gones. Didn’t even mention the lawsuits they’d filed against Jeff’s Dad after that failed tour. The ones they’d lost, cause his Dad never does._ _

__“Ever miss it all?” Jeff asks Jerry’s bent head. “Ever feel it? You know? Call of the road? That ol’ gypsy life? ‘Cause, just to mention, my Dad’s team’s worked out some sweet synergies with this stadium holding company and -”_ _

__Jerry looks up. He scoffs._ _

__“Here son,” he holds up the wrapped sage bundle, “this one’s for you. Take it with you, when you go back home to Daddy. You’ll need it.”_ _

__

__The locals in the bar all know Jeff’s come from the Centre - he can tell, even though no one has looked directly at him. He ducks his head, slips onto a stool, orders a beer. It doesn’t matter - not like he’s ever going to see any of them ever again. No one knows him here, he could be anyone at all. Emptiness yawns wide inside of him suddenly. He gulps the beer, the cold liquid floods the feeling away, almost._ _

__It’s fine. Just a few more days, probably, and he’s done. Penance paid._ _

__The barman’s battling the dust here too, swiping a cloth over the wooden bartop, leaves the surface sticky and damp instead._ _

__Jeff pulls out his phone, compulsively bringing up the Music Week article again - _Azoff Management Restructure - Can A New Broom Brush Away Past Scandals?__ _

__Jeff flicks along the screen, scanning again to the part where his Dad references him._ _

___“Azoff Co.s’ past issues with artificially inflated online traffic statistics have been well-reported. The company founder and chief is unusually frank in pinning the blame on former Head of Digital Media (and son), Jeffrey (28). “Well there was some poor decision-making in the past of course. Personal issues that I won’t go into, except to say this - addiction is a blight to this nation, and I challenge you to find me a family that hasn’t been affected in some way. My son is getting the support he needs right now and we look forward to welcoming him back to the fold when his treatment is completed. When he’s back to himself.”_ _ _

___On being asked if this means his son will be reappointed to a position on the senior management team, Azoff reverts to his typical vagueness - “We’ll judge that in good time. We’ll see what he can manage.”_ _ _

__Fucker._ _

__There’s an open mic night happening. A heavily braided girl sits on a stool, purring country-pop into the microphone, her whole body hidden behind a huge acoustic guitar._ _

__Jeff turns back to his beer. She can sing. But she doesn’t have it. It’ll never be anything else but this for her - local bars, maybe a wedding booking every now and then. And a recurring “if it hadn’t been for … I coulda been ...” refrain flickering through her mind as she stares at the ceiling at night. She’ll be wrong. But the thought won’t ever go away._ _

__Jeff knows it instantly. When it’s real._ _

__His Dad has it and Jeff inherited it - that gift. It was the one thing that had ever sparked that look of respect in his Dad’s eyes._ _

___This one. This is the one, Dad. This one’s gonna be huge._ _ _

__

__“Hi.”_ _

__Jeff jumps, nearly slips from his barstool. A man is standing at the bar beside him, smiling at him._ _

__Beautiful. He’s a beautiful guy. All shiny and fresh-faced, big eyes, big mouth, dimples, sharp jawline._ _

__He’s wearing embroidered trousers, gold thread gleaming in the dim light. Like, ridiculous. In this place? Like seeing a ruby shining out from a dog turd._ _

__The barman comes over and Jeff manages to swallow the mouthful of beer he’d been holding in his mouth._ _

__“Tequila,” the guy is saying, leaning forward on his elbows. Then he looks at Jeff. Grins over his shoulder. It’s blinding. “Hey, want one on me? Don’t want to be that guy you know? Knocking back shots on my own.”_ _

__He doesn’t wait for Jeff to answer, just nods at the barman, puts up two fingers._ _

__He turns back to Jeff, still smiling, “Dutch courage,” he tells him. “I’m up next.”_ _

__That accent. His voice is difference, low and slow, a meandering laneway along foggy green fields. Strange here, in all this dusty dryness._ _

__“You’re English?” Jeff finds himself mumbling._ _

__“Yeah …uh long story … don’t ask …”_ _

__The guy looks at him and laughs at whatever expression of confusion is obviously playing out on Jeff’s face. “How in all the gin joints in all the world I ended up here? I mean … people always seem to want to know … it gets, you know, a little old.”_ _

__He pulls a face. Crossed eyes and mouth twisted sideways. He’s still so fucking pretty._ _

__Jeff frowns down at his beer bottle. “OK.’ He swigs at the beer again. He’s so fucking bored is the thing. This dried up place. ‘I’m just here to avoid a fucking drumming circle anyway. Don’t worry about it.’_ _

__The guy laughs though._ _

__Jeff shoots a look back at him, surprised._ _

__The laugh… it was loud and hearty, and the guy’s eyes are meeting Jeff’s now, all crinkly at the edges. No one Jeff knows laughs like that - all unguardedly delighted like that. The guy leans in so close that Jeff catches his scent - soap and flowers, something wholesome and fresh in it all._ _

__“OK,” he’s saying, hooking an ankle round a barstool and dragging it closer, “I’ll tell you this much. I just decided - the desert is the best place to heal a broken heart. All that hot sun? Dries up the tears nice and fast, you know?”_ _

__Jeff just stares. The guy’s smiling still. Shrugs theatrically at Jeff - _whadyagonnado_?_ _

__Jeff stretches upwards on his stool. There’s a weird sensation snaking up his spine, like the marrow is vibrating. A broken heart? What kind of weird shit is this?_ _

__“But, at least I got some songs out of it all, I guess. It’s quiet here, you know? At night.” He’s holding Jeff’s gaze steadily. “Good stars.”_ _

__The barman comes back with the shots, and Jeff takes the one offered to him. His heart slams into his ribcage. Just once. Then everything settles back._ _

__It’s just … who talks like this? About shit like this?_ _

__“You can ask my name though …” the guy suggests, the glass hovering before his lips, eyes shining and fixed on Jeff’s. He’s got long fingers. “If you want… So we’re not drinking as strangers …”_ _

__Is he … is he flirting or ...? What?_ _

__Jeff looks away. Why would he … why would that be ….?_ _

__He glances back up._ _

__The guy’s smile has faltered slightly, a hesitancy has entered his expression. He’s not even attempting to play it cool. He shifts backwards onto his stool, sitting on it properly now for the first time, instead of just perching and leaning towards Jeff. His eyes lower, seem to drift over Jeff’s hands, fix on the watch on Jeff’s wrist. It’s too shiny. Here in this bar with pistachio shells scattered over the floor._ _

__“So, sure. Let’s hear it then, your name?” Jeff says hurriedly, yielding to the urgent impulse to stop that downcast expression from settling in on those handsome features. “I’m Jeffrey - Jeff.”_ _

__The smile returns. Hopeful, bright eyes back on his._ _

__“I’m not from around here either,” Jeff adds, holding forward his shotglass. “So …”_ _

__“Yeah, kinda got that.” He clinks his glass lightly against Jeff’s. “I’m Harry. Good to meet you Jeffrey Jeff. Cheers.”_ _

__

__Harry has two more shots before he goes up to the mic._ _

__Or no, he orders them but doesn’t drink them. The first he gives to the girl who just came off stage, along with an enveloping hug and complements delivered hand on his heart._ _

__The second is sitting on the bartop beside Jeff’s elbow, lined up beside the three empty upturned glasses Jeff’s got through._ _

__Harry’s awkward getting on stage, tangling himself briefly with the cord for his electric guitar. Jeff finds himself recording on his phone - tequila buzz helping to make everything just that little bit funnier, little bit warmer - so he can post it to Cameron along with his nightly plea for rescue._ _

__Look at this dumb shit, he’ll say. Look at this crap and ask me again if I’m having a nice vacation._ _

__Harry swings the guitar strap over his head, has to check his finger positions on the frets - it’s painful - and then he strums a chord, looks up at the small crowd, smiles, and everything changes. Jeff’s heart stops._ _

__

__

__After the bar - on the way home_ _

__The music is so loud inside Harry’s beat-up truck that Jeff feels like it’s pounding onto his skin._ _

__“Too much!” he shouts._ _

__Harry cackles in response and hikes up the volume of his crappy stereo even more._ _

__They’ve all the windows down and the night air is whipping around them inside the cab, freezing, roaring in their ears, tugging at their clothes. The road surface is rough and the seats creak as they bounce along. The dirt, that ever-present dust, blows up in clouds behind them. Plumes behind a rocket launch._ _

__Harry is yelling along to the music, _(Chaa-aaa-aains keep us together ... Running in the shadows)_ eyes half-closed, hands loose on the steering wheel. Jeff feels like he must have been doing that too, a second ago. Wild things racing through an empty place, howling at the moon. His throat feels raw. _ _

__This feeling ... what is the name for this? This rushing. This wildness. Laughing like this … he can’t breathe, stomach muscles convulsing tight …_ _

__He glances over at Harry - his skin gleaming in the moonlight, a bright and alive in the dark - hair whipping around, wide mouth, hands drumming on the steering wheel - he’s just all open and energy and freedom._ _

__Free._ _

__It’s a real thing, it’s a real feeling._ _

__The truck lurches suddenly, hitting a pothole, and it makes Harry swerve into the gravelly shoulder before he yanks it back again, swaying across the line and then back into lane._ _

__“Fuck!” Jeff clutches at the dash, heart pounding._ _

__Harry’s cackling. He swerves a little back and forth - on purpose - laughing loudly, everything all helter-skelter._ _

__Anything could happen._ _

__“Stop!” Jeff can’t breathe now. His hand flails at the air before landing onto Harry’s forearm. It fits inside the tight circle of Jeff’s fist, yielding muscle and hard bones, smooth warm skin._ _

__“Stop, stop…” he’s not being loud enough, his voice dying inside his constricted throat._ _

__Harry’s trying to shake off his grip, “Hey! Whoa! Let go!”_ _

__But Jeff can’t stop himself from dragging at Harry’s arm and they’ve turned now, bouncing across the verge onto rough dirt._ _

__The truck growls as Harry hits the brakes. They jolt into a stop, the truck shaking them back into their seats._ _

__The engine cuts, music silenced and the quiet slams into Jeff’s chest, sledgehammer into his ribs. Something feels like it’s shattering._ _

__“Fuck.”_ _

__Jeff’s out the door, striding over the uneven ground until his feet reach the asphalt. If he keeps moving fast enough then he doesn’t need to test to see if his legs can hold him upright. Fuck. His whole body is thrumming, breath coming in shaky gasps._ _

__Something huge and empty had opened up in front of Jeff for a moment there, something so open and endless it terrified him._ _

__“Hey!”_ _

__He hears Harry calling from the dark behind him. Jeff needs to get away, that emptiness - so seductive, so attractive, he’s got to run from it. All that openness - it felt like falling._ _

__“Hey Jeff, stop …” Harry’s voice still bubbles with laughter as it carries over the wind “Where are you …? Hey! That’s not the right way …”_ _

__Jeff hears a creak, then the truck coughing into life again._ _

__Jeff keeps striding onwards. It’s taking all his concentration to suck gulps of cold night air into his lungs and exhale it again._ _

__“Hey!”_ _

__The truck’s rumbling along beside him, Harry leaning out the window, keeping pace with him. “What are you doing? Stop walking. We’re nearly there.”_ _

__“Stupid. Just … reckless.”_ _

__Jeff’s not sure if he spoke loudly enough because Harry’s still laughing at him. He needs to get back to the Centre. Fuck this. He doesn’t know what’s happening right now._ _

__“It’s the wrong way, Jeffrey. Oh my god, where are you …”_ _

__The truck halts again, door creaking open and Jeff feels a tight grip on his arm and then he’s yanked around so hard he stumbles._ _

__Harry grabs him again immediately, hands heavy on his shoulders, steadying him._ _

__Someone’s screaming somewhere far off. Maybe? Or is it just the ringing in his ears? Jeff’s scanning the horizon - where is it coming from? But then his face is cupped in two broad palms, and Harry’s right in front of him, so close he can feel the heat of his breath._ _

__Gradually, the words he’s speaking start to penetrate._ _

__“You can’t go walking off into the desert on your own in the middle of the night ... Dramatic but, you know … You could get hurt. Or, I dunno, die, or something.”_ _

__Jeff stares at Harry. His face is so animated, sharp frown, burning eyes. A dull pain throbs in Jeff’s arm, where Harry grabbed him._ _

__Something quietens inside Jeff._ _

__Harry’s face is close, so close._ _

__“So are you getting back in the truck now?”_ _

__Jeff nods. He can’t stop watching Harry’s face, the way he’s staring so intently at Jeff, flinty sparks in his eyes._ _

__Harry’s hands drop to Jeff’s shoulders. He can feel the metal of the truck pressing into his back, but when he shifts slightly, Harry just moves closer, leans forward, rests one hand onto the truck beside Jeff’s waist._ _

__Jeff holds himself completely still. Watching._ _

__Harry bites his lip, a flicker of uncertainty passing through his intent expression. He’s staring again, like he’s working something out. Then he drops his eyes briefly before looking back and leaning in, his lips just over Jeff’s ear._ _

__“Are you going to do what you’re told?”_ _

__His breath is puffing against Jeff’s face._ _

__Jeff swallows._ _

__He feels Harry look at the side of his face. He shuts his eyes. Nods._ _

__Then Harry’s gone and Jeff’s slumping back weakly against the truck, cold air making him shiver. It’s just the cold, right? His knees aren’t working still. He scrabbles against the truck for support._ _

__Harry swings a door open, it creaks a protest. He holds it open, waiting._ _

__“So be good, and get in the truck. Come home with me.”_ _

__

__“Home” is a trailer parked beside a small, old wooden house. The moon’s bright and galaxies are splayed wide for them overhead._ _

__Jeff’s still shaky when they roll up but he follows Harry up the steps and inside._ _

__Harry turns around as soon as he’s crossed the threshold, grabs Jeff’s hips and walks him backwards until he feels the back of his knees hit something soft._ _

__“Sit”, Harry tells him, and then he’s gone._ _

__Jeff swallows and sinks down, listing to rummaging and shuffling noises. Something inside his chest is vibrating. Then a lamp bulb glows underneath a dripping shawl thing, there’s music - Joni - and Harry’s standing in front of him again suddenly._ _

__His hand trails down along Jeff’s cheek._ _

__Jeff clamps his eyes shut._ _

__“What do you want?”_ _

__Harry’s voice is quiet, rough. It makes Jeff’s entire body shudder. He can’t answer._ _

__Then ... kisses, soft, drifting along his cheek, down along his neck. He shivers again, shuts his eyes tighter._ _

__“I think I know what you want,” Harry whispers in his ear, his lips hot, then teeth biting into his skin. And he can’t stop the groan escaping._ _

__Harry slides down on top of Jeff’s knees. The light pressure snaps Jeff’s eyes open, and he watches Harry lean back, pull off his shirt. He’s firm and tattooed. His skin is dumbfounding._ _

__“Tell me … tell me what you want …” he’s kissing Jeff’s neck again, the words mushed into his skin._ _

__“I don’t …” Jeff feels his eyes blinking rapidly, but it isn’t helping him focus on anything. This is … Is this happening? He tries clearing his throat. “I haven’t … uh … before … with a guy. I haven’t …”_ _

__Harry leans back, blinking surprise. Jeff’s surprised too. He didn’t know he was going to say that. He doesn’t know if he’s going to to do that. He claws at the sheets either side of him._ _

__“But you want to …” Harry shifts forwards on Jeff’s lap, grinding right into Jeff’s hardness so he has to tighten his fists to twist the cotton and take a shuddering breath._ _

__Harry’s bumping his nose into Jeff’s, nuzzling, making him look up._ _

__When he finally manages to, Jeff sees a huge grin spreading across Harry’s face. “With me … now you want to …”_ _

__He rocks on Jeff’s lap, rubbing into him, setting off shooting sparks of pleasure that rocket along Jeff’s nerves._ _

__“Yeah,” Jeff admits and his hands grab at Harry’s waist, pulling him in, rocking him in closer, his own hips pushing up into the pressure Harry’s dealing out. He spreads out his grip, fingers digging into the fabric of those embroidered trousers and pushing into the muscle of Harry’s ass. Jeff’s hands feel huge on him. He squeezes._ _

__He glances up and gasps, cause Harry’s still grinning, smiling down at him, all pleased and happy like he’s done something right, something good._ _

__Jeff only realises he’s grinning back just as broadly when Harry leans down to kiss him, and it’s all messy and teeth bumping and then they’re laughing into each other’s mouths and Harry’s still grinding into him, stealing his breath away._ _

__They roll over, tearing Jeff’s clothes off, kicking them free…still laughing._ _

__And this is … this is, actually, great. Jeff notices it now. This feels great._ _

__But then Harry’s wriggling away. He’s standing, snaking out of his trousers and underwear. And Jeff’s not thinking about anything except that he’s so fucking beautiful and, also, his dick is fucking big. Harry’s broad palm circles it, stroking. Jeff swallows, suddenly nervous again … what’s he supposed to do with that?_ _

__He reaches hesitantly, fingertips drifting along its length. He feels his own dick respond with a throb that’s almost painful. Fuck._ _

__Harry’s eyes are dark, watchful. But then he smiles suddenly, and lunges, pushing Jeff backwards flat on the mattress. He takes Jeff’s wrists and pushes them back up over his head._ _

__“Stay there,” he pants, then he’s reaching, rummaging on the floor beside the bed. He pops back up, a little bottle of lube in his grip. Jeff’s heart wallops. But he stays still, like Harry said, arms stretched up._ _

__Harry comes back to lie flat on top of Jeff, kissing him deeply. He spreads his legs wide, either side of Jeff, little grunts escaping as he reaches behind himself to - and oh ... so that’s what’s going to happen._ _

__Harry’s dropped his face into Jeff’s neck as he readies himself, and Jeff’s not moving from where Harry pinned him down. He squeezes his fists around something behind his head - a pillow or cushion or something - waits, breathing like he’s running a marathon._ _

__He has to shut his eyes when Harry eventually sits up, shimmies backwards to roll a condom onto Jeff’s dick and then ease himself slowly down, head dropped forward and lips parted._ _

__For Jeff it’s so much, it’s so much … that tight heat, pleasure uncoiling and snaking right along his nerves. Fuck. It’s so fucking much. His breath is jerked out of him in grunts as Harry moves on top of him. Harry gets a rhythm going, rolling his hips back in to Jeff. It builds and builds and he hears himself get louder._ _

__“No,” Harry’s hand reaches and presses over his mouth, “no, not yet. Don’t come yet.”_ _

__Jeff groans into the heat of Harry’s palm, twists his face away._ _

__“Don’t!” Harry tells him._ _

__And he won’t. He won’t._ _

__He rolls his head to the side, forces his eyes open and locks onto a stack of magazines on the floor. He forces himself to read the titles - Rolling Stone, Music Week, Variety ...He tries to make out the headlines. Focus. Don’t come yet._ _

__Harry shifts, leans back, bouncing harder onto Jeff. When Jeff glances up at him he’s got one hand buried in his hair, his eyes shut and face upturned, his long throat exposed._ _

__Jesus. Don’t come. Don’t come._ _

__And oh fuck - it’s way too much. He flails a hand out, grabs at Harry’s hand, brings it down over his own mouth again, squeezes his fingers around Harry’s wrist and presses down. Harry’s other hand comes to circle his throat._ _

__“Yeah, yeah, fuck …” Harry’s getting there. Jeff can hear it, in some far off distant place. Jeff’s shut his eyes again and there’s only darkness and this gorgeous heat and the pressure of Harry’s hands on him._ _

__“Fuck! God! Yeah, now …” Harry’s gasping, “you ... come now …”_ _

__And Jeff twists free, grabs Harry’s hips and thrusts up, all control gone, just tightens his fingers into Harry’s flesh, slick with sweat, and jerks into him until the orgasm he’s been battling racks through him._ _

__When he manages to open his eyes, Harry’s still on top of him, panting, loose limbed and slack, keeling forward._ _

__Jeff rolls up and grabs his face, brings their lips together and tongues roughly into Harry’s mouth. He feels Harry exhale in a shudder, the last aftershocks pulsing through his body and he tightens his grip, his thumb pressing hard against Harry’s jaw. He’s just come but he wants to fucking devour Harry now, even as he feels himself slip free from the clench of Harry’s body._ _

__“Was it good? Was it ok?” he pants into Harry’s skin, mouthing over his jaw, feeling bristles prickling against his lips._ _

__“Yeah …”_ _

__Jeff’s gnawing at Harry’s collar bones, curling around him and feeling the weight of him get heavier on his lap as Harry’s body gets more lax inside his arms._ _

__“Yeah? It was ok? I was ok?” he asks, his hands roaming over Harry’s body. His skin is so smooth. This must be his reward now - if he was good - getting to touch like this. Fuck. He needs to hear it though. He nudges down, purses his lips over Harry’s nipple, sucks, hears Harry moan._ _

__Harry takes Jeff’s head in his hands and pushes him back. His fingers stroke through Jeff’s hair and sparks tingle down Jeff’s spine. Harry’s blinking down at him. He looks wrecked._ _

__He smiles, a little blearily._ _

__“Yeah Jeffrey Jeff, that was really good. You were so good.”_ _

__Everything inside Jeff settles into stillness._ _

__

__

__Harry’s all peppy after. Slides away to clean up and comes back to pour Jeff a glass of water, goes off again to make them cheese toasties, standing there naked beside the gas burners. Laughs that loud laugh when Jeff points out the obvious issue at hand. He changes the record on the player twice until he’s satisfied Jeff’s vibing with the music. At one point he drops a kiss onto Jeff’s face, saying, “I like you.” Smiling at him._ _

__And even though Jeff doesn’t get it, finds it all weird and exposing and dangerous, he can’t stop smiling back. His face hurts._ _

__After they eat, Harry settles back with him into the tangle of sheets and shawls that make up the nest of Harry’s bed._ _

__He pulls Jeff’s arm up and around his shoulders, tugging at his wrist until his hand is level with Harry’s cheek. The light in the trailer is dim, but the lamplight is soft and warm. It lands on Jeff’s watch, its glass face a bright gleam in the darkness._ _

__Jeff watches Harry’s long fingers wander around the strap, wrestle it loose. He lays it across his upturned palm, like he’s testing the weight of it, then slips it on. He rests his arm down on his knee, angling the watch back and forth to admire it._ _

__“It’s really nice,” he says, voice low._ _

__“My Dad gave it to me,” Jeff tells him. He waits for a follow up from Harry. It’s an opener for some question about his family, who he is._ _

__But Harry just says, “Oh,” and then he leans down and picks up Jeff’s shirt from the floor. Jeff watches him check the label on the inside collar. Then he rubs the fabric between his finger tips, pressing a bundle softly to his face, draping it over his forearm._ _

__Jeff reaches forward, rubs his hand down along Harry’s spine._ _

__“Hey,” his voice is croaky too, “are you robbing me? ‘Cause if you are, you’re not very good at it. You need to be a bit less obvious.”_ _

__Harry looks sideways at him, eyes narrowing._ _

__“I’m always obvious if I want something,” he grins. “And then sometimes, people give me presents.”_ _

__Jeff laughs. “I bet they do.”_ _

__Jeff scans around the tiny trailer space again - it reminds him of those old photos he’d come across in his Dad’s office, from back in the day. On the road with bands in the seventies, when everything was orange and brown, music was raw, body hair was unfettered._ _

__Must have been good. Must have been like this in a way - easy. Bars and open roads and drugs and fucking._ _

__He sees Harry’s got packets of ramen stacked by the gas cooker, a gallon container of water, a bowl of apples. In the corner, his bag is spilling clothes over the rag-rug. He’s got three guitar cases lying across the banquette._ _

__Like ... that’s how simple it could be. Pack a bag, hire a van - a decent van, not like this one, something that could actually sustain a little tour._ _

__Pick the right venues - like the small, good ones - the ones where people go to discover new shit._ _

__Set up a few social media channels, to go along with all that. But none of the shit. All that crap at the company - the ad-buys and radio payola and click farm shit. Leave all that behind and just let it be about this - a guy with a guitar and a swagger._ _

__That’s how Jeff’d do it. If he was to go there._ _

__Like. He could. He could do it._ _

__“Here,” Harry’s rummaging again and now he’s holding a little baggie out to him, “you want a bump?”_ _

__Jeff takes a hit from the back of his hand. Just a tiny one. Just for clarity. He drank too much earlier and the fucking’s left him all floaty and melted - he just needs to sharpen up because - wow - this. What he’s discovered here. This might be something. This could really be something._ _

__“You were amazing,” Jeff tells Harry, bright zippiness pinging through his veins._ _

__Harry’s stretched back on the pillows beside him, all languorous and lax. He smiles smugly, eyelids half-closed._ _

__“No …I meant .... the bar … You. You’ve really got something.”_ _

__Jeff shrugs off the bedding, stands, paces over the worn carpet tiles. Two steps and he’s at the other wall. Christ. This fucking shitcan though. Who lives like this?_ _

__When he turns again, he sees Harry’s sitting up on the mattress, staring. There’s an intentness in his eyes, something bright._ _

__Yeah. Everyone wants this, to hear this._ _

__Jeff can’t stop moving. He grabs at the pile of clothes on the floor, finds his underwear, drags them up his legs. He feels Harry’s eyes on him the whole time._ _

__“Look,” Jeff’s gonna lay it out, share the vision, fuck playing games. This candour of Harry’s - it’s infectious.. “You probably don’t know but … I could be very important for you. I’m a pretty serious player in certain sectors of the entertainment industry.”_ _

__Hit-maker. Born into it._ _

__“I think, maybe … If you came back to L.A. with me, I could make things happen for you. Big things.”_ _

__Harry shifts on the bed, props up a knee and rests his forearm on it. The sheet is tangled around him but he’s mostly exposed in the lamp-light, all long bare limbs, firm muscle, tattoed skin. That steady devastating stare._ _

__Fucking couldn’t design something like this if you tried. The perfect vision - wanton rock-star, sexy, tousled and louche, that dangerous mix of masculine and feminine - the unpredictability of it, what that does to the plebs, getting themselves all unsettled and riled up by this strange desire he’s set alight in them._ _

__Jeff can see it - he feels it too, obviously. But he grew up with this. Can detach himself enough to recognise it, see it affecting others. _Monitise that shit_ \- Cam would say._ _

__Harry smiles, looks away for a second, almost bashful._ _

__Jeff feels his pulse slow again._ _

__See? This is it! This is exactly what Jeff’s been thinking about, what he’s noticed. He’s fucking loveable this Harry - he terrifies you one minute and the next you want to sweep him up and take care of him._ _

__Jeff could do it. He could walk away from everything else and do it. Why not?_ _

__“I can take care of things for you,” he tells Harry. His voice comes out so smooth and deep. He’s good. The bear has awoken. It's a new spring. Could be. Something completely new. “That’s what I do.”_ _

__A small smile is playing at the edge of Harry’s lips._ _

__“Yeah?” he asks, quietly. He’s trying to subdue a dirty little smirk. Jeff can see it though - inside Harry there’s a glimmering spark of excitement at Jeff’s words._ _

__Jeff feels it too. It could be … this could be … something, like, real._ _

__Suddenly his Dad’s face swims into his mind. Imagine if, like, if this became something - if he could make Harry into something. The next big thing. Just all on his own._ _

__A rustle from the bed brings Jeff’s attention back to the room. Harry’s moved so his leg is slung over the edge._ _

__“You’ll take care of me?” The grin is creeping over Harry’s lips. “How?”_ _

__Jeff finally stops moving. It’s a certainty in him now, heavy as lead._ _

__“I can make you very successful and very rich.”_ _

__His heart thumps._ _

__“Yeah but …” Harry shifts again on the bed, scooting to the edge, dragging away the bedsheets. “What I want to know is - how are you going to take care of me?”_ _

__He stretches out his bare legs, spreading them wide, and lust zings through Jeff as sharp and fast as the coke earlier. Every nerve ending is tingling with it, with wanting. He swallows, licks his lips, hears a shuddery exhale escape though his lips._ _

__He meets Harry’s greedily gleaming eyes._ _

__Then he drops to his knees, and crawls across the floor._ _

__

__

__They sleep, manage a couple of hours. When dawn arrives, Harry goes off into the wooden house next door to shower. Jeff doesn’t want to even think about what kind of set-up this is._ _

__Jeff’s making a plan in his head. Ok he’ll go back, call for a car, get reception to send up a maid to pack his stuff while he showers. Then he and Harry will head back to L.A. and he’ll start setting things up. Get him seen performing is essential obviously, so maybe first - a stylist, someone who’ll coax that natural charm into something volcanic, then the gigs. Also, he’ll call around and book a few session musicians, studio hours. A producer … who can he persuade to do him a solid at short notice …?_ _

__He feels his heartbeat quicken to a thrum. And it’ll all be on him, Harry’s his baby now. It’ll be like how his Dad started off - driving a van down highways, making deals with labels, getting shit done. They could start a new label maybe..._ _

__He’ll do it. He’ll do it all on his own. Fuck the company. Fuck it all. He’s got something magical within his grasp._ _

__And maybe … if his Dad sees it … sees how he’ll make it all on his own … Can’t say he got it all handed to him any more, now can he? Can’t say Jeff doesn’t know what it’s like to build something from scratch._ _

__He steps out the door of the trailer, out into the light. It’s still early, sky pale as a heat-less yellowy sun scrapes over the horizon. He leans onto the door frame, opens his phone, starts to make notes, scuffing his feet into the desert sand._ _

__The phone in his hand buzzes suddenly._ _

__Cam’s face appears on the screen._ _

__“Bro!” Cameron’s got a shit eating grin on his face which makes Jeff’s stomach twist. “My, my! Look at you all glowing and refreshed! The rehab’s going well then?”_ _

__“It’s not rehab,” Jeff says, swiping a hand over his face. He’s not sure what it had been doing. “It’s a Recentering Spa Experience. Which you know.”_ _

__Cam clicks his fingers, “No, no, you’re right, sorry! That’s what I meant to say. And you do very much look like a fully recentered spa.”_ _

__Jeff rolls his eyes. “Dude, come on. Not cool.” He glances at the time in the top corner of the screen. “Hey why are you calling this early? Thought you didn’t function before noon.”_ _

__Cam shakes his head at him. “You went awol bro! What - did you think Dad wouldn’t hear about you? Out of rehab and back on the town … shootin’ tequila shots … very hard livin’ of you, man. Very authentic. Just the kind of thing the investors want to read about before management restructuring, if it gets out … So … he’s on his way to pay you a visit. Thought I’d give you the heads up.”_ _

__The thrum of Jeff’s heart slows to a heavy, deadening drumbeat inside his chest._ _

__“What? How’d he … who told …?”_ _

__Cameron’s just grinning at him._ _

__“D’ya score the reunion gig yet, then? You can tell Dad when he gets there. That’ll cheer him up.”_ _

__“What?” A headache is suddenly knocking on Jeff’s skull, waiting to be invited in._ _

__“Jerry Pinewood?” Cameron widens his eyes at him, “Don’t tell me you’ve been just sitting there all this time and not working that angle? Seriously? What do you think Dad sent you there for? Healing or some shit like that?”_ _

__Jeff ignores Cameron’s snigger._ _

__“Jerry’s grieving, Cam,” he tells him. “For fucks sake. His kid died and he’s working on keeping sober. He’s having a hard time. You could show a little respect, you know?”_ _

__Like, he’s pretty sure it was Jerry’s kid._ _

__“Ok, sheesh”, Cam pulls a face at him._ _

__“I mean,” the headache’s really descending now, “I just think it wouldn’t hurt to acknowledge things get real sometimes. For people. People have real feelings. You know? It’s just common decency.”_ _

__“OK, ok! Shit Jeff.”_ _

__Cameron rolls his eyes now. He’s quiet for a minute, look off to the side. Then he turns back, a glint back in his expression._ _

__“Nice video you sent, by the way, loved that. Good to see you are making the most of the local attractions.”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__Jeff has a hazy memory now - from last night, moving around to the back of the room with his phone in his hand. Getting a better angle. Getting it all in - Harry, a presence too big for a country bar, how he filled the room, broke it open, took them all away to somewhere stratospheric before dropping them back down, in a thud, into the dust of the Nevada desert._ _

__Jeff filmed that. And then sent it to Cameron. Jesus. He was drunker than he thought._ _

__“Good job though - finding your little treasures in the dirt like a little magpie. Dad’s impressed. Wants to meet this guy - presume he doesn’t have representation?”_ _

__“You showed that to Dad?”_ _

__Cameron eyes widen and his eyebrows rise theatrically._ _

__“Oh! Didn’t you want me to?”_ _

__“I … uh …” Jeff feels his throat tighten around the words he wants to say. _He’s mine. You guys can’t have him, he’s mine.__ _

__“Well,” Cam’s grinning at him again, “you can thank me later. It looks like you might be back on the inside, dude.”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__“Oh nothing much, just Dad saying something about a creating a new position. Vice President of Talent Management. To grow that whole division. A name was mentioned. Rhymes with _Feff_. Who could it be, I wonder?”_ _

__Jeff knows his mouth has dropped open, but can’t seem to figure out how to get it back closed again._ _

__Cameron is spreading his hands out in a _ta-da_ gesture - “you heard it here first!”_ _

__“Looks like your new little buddy might have got you back into the fold, big bro. Reminded Dad of your particular strengths.” Cameron’s grinning again in that freaky way. He thumbs over his shoulder, “Weellll, gotta get back to killing this fatted calf over here. Prodigal son returning blah blah - guess I’ll be seeing you at dinner…”_ _

__Jeff hears the scrape of a door opening as Cam hangs up._ _

__He pockets his phone as quickly as he can, Harry smiling as he passes by, naked apart from the short towel around his waist._ _

__It doesn’t affect the heavy, slow thud of Jeff’s heartbeat reverberating against his ribcage._ _

__Shit._ _

__His Dad’s coming._ _

__His Dad’s coming because he saw the video of Harry and wants to get him in the fold. He wants Jeff back in the fold. Because he saw Harry. Wants him signed to the company for representation._ _

__Jeff paces in a circle outside the trailer._ _

__When Harry comes out he’s dressed in wide cotton trousers and a floaty shirt that Jeff could swear is the same as one he’s seen his mother in._ _

__But it couldn’t be. Because his mother only wears in-season pieces from Gucci and Prada and Harry lives in a trailer in the desert._ _

__“Ready?” Harry’s smiling at him. That way he does. Like he means it._ _

__Jeff nods sharply at Harry, looks away quickly. “Yeah, let’s go.”_ _

__

__When they get back to the Centre, Harry parks his truck beside the horse paddocks. It’s part of the philosophy here - to spend time caring for other creatures, to learn to focus attention on stuff beyond your own petty cravings. Jeff’s been bribing one of the gardeners to do his allocated chores, but he sees Jerry there now, leading one of the horses by the reigns, back from his walk. Some of the people here do what they’re told._ _

__Harry shifts on his feet beside Jeff, something about the movement makes Jeff look up, check on him. But Harry’s face looks fine, normal, blank._ _

__His eyes are fixed on Jerry’s approach though and when Jeff turns back to look he sees that Jerry’s looking right back at Harry, smirking. Then he shakes his head and meanders closer to them._ _

__“Hi Jerry,” Harry says. He’s running his fingers through his hair, like he’s nervous. Star struck, Jeff reckons. Jerry’s a pretty big deal, after all._ _

__Jerry comes to a stop, rests an arm across the horse’s withers, chuckling._ _

__“Well, hi there to you, Harry. Success at last, yeah?”_ _

__Jeff whirls his head back towards Jerry. He knows Harry?_ _

__He’s still smirking. He shakes his head again, laughs quietly._ _

__Harry hasn’t said anything else. He’s pressing his lips tight, standing awkwardly, twisting an ankle inwards._ _

__“Uh, hi Jerry?” Jeff tries. No one seems to notice._ _

__A far-away rumble makes them all look up. Over towards the horizon, Jeff can make out a black speck. It’s heading towards them._ _

__Holy fuck, he knows that sound. His Dad took the chopper?_ _

__The horse jerks and snorts, uneasy. Jerry quickly responds, patting its neck, making shushing sounds._ _

__“Hey, kid,” he glances over his shoulder at Harry, “think I left that lower gate open. Do me a favour and check, yeah? Don’t want these guys bolting when that thing blows in.”_ _

__Harry straightens. He looks down at the far end of the paddock enclosure and then back at Jerry. Jeff’s struggling to read the expression on his face. But as he’s looking, it changes suddenly, back to an easy smile._ _

__“Yeah, no problem Jerry,” he says, and strides off, the wide fabric flapping around his legs._ _

__Jerry makes a scoffing noise and Jeff feels himself bristling. Harry can wear what he wants. What, like, that greasy bandana Jerry’s wrapped around his forehead is the epitome of fashion-forward?_ _

__But then, he sees something like a fondness cross Jerry’s face._ _

__“You have to give him credit for creativity,” Jerry says, shooting a pointed look at Jeff. “All those poor kids, out there pounding the street, gigging dive bars, doing their you-tubes, sending out their demos - trying to get noticed. Pretty smart to realise the best place to make connections in the music industry is at a rehab.”_ _

__Jeff stares at him._ _

__But he’s just grinning, watching Harry check the gate, wave at them._ _

__Jerry catches Jeff’s eye. Holds it as he waves back at Harry._ _

__“He’s been working this place for weeks now. Everyone got their turn. And now you came along. Good move, if you ask me. Couldn’t find a guy who can open more doors than you, I guess. Except for your Daddy, of course.”_ _

__That headache. It’s back now, hitting like a juggernaut. Jeff has to shut his eyes for a second until the bolt of pain recedes._ _

__When he opens them again he sees Jerry’s studying him carefully._ _

__“Hey man, it’s all good, yeah? I think he’s got something. It’ll work out pretty good, I think. If no one screws up.”_ _

__Jerry squeezes Jeff’s shoulder. “He’s certainly sharper than I was. Can’t see him letting his Manager screw him over.”_ _

__He clicks his tongue at the horse, and steps away._ _

__“Just needs to learn to play those fuckin’ guitars he’s hauling around. It’s a crime how he treats those babies.”_ _

__He waves over again at Harry, who has nearly reached them again. He calls over - “Good luck to you, kid. Hope it works out!”_ _

__The helicopter’s so close by the time Harry makes it back to Jeff that they both hunch reflexively against the noise pounding down from the sky._ _

__Harry stands a few paces away, eyeing Jeff carefully. The helicopter is circling lower, wind from it’s blades blasting into them, tossing Harry’s hair in every direction._ _

__“What did he say about me?”_ _

__Jeff watches the way his right ankle twists again. Fucking hell. He looks up into Harry’s eyes. They’re round and watchful. But he doesn’t look nervous. His expression is steady, unreadable._ _

__“He said you need to practise the guitar more,” Jeff tells him._ _

__Harry’s countenance morphs into a pout. But then it eases, and he grins ruefully at Jeff, nodding. “I know. I do.”_ _

__He’s still watching, eyes peering into Jeff’s like he’s trying to mindread._ _

__Suddenly Harry’s frowning._ _

__“I just,” he says, still not breaking eye-contact, “I just really want to make it. That’s all. I just really want to be up there, making it, like you said. Big.”_ _

__Jeff swallows and takes one step closer to him. He has to shout over the noise now. It’s an effort to breathe, the way the air’s tossing around them._ _

__“Did you know who I am? The whole time?”_ _

__Harry looks away then, waves a hand at the dust blowing around his face._ _

__Jeff remembers all those trade mags scattered over the floor of the trailer. Of course he did._ _

__Harry’s looking at him again suddenly. His expression is different now. He’s tilted his chin out, like a challenge._ _

__“You aren’t really an addict,” he says. It’s not a question. “You’ve agreed to be the whipping boy for that mess in your company, that whole click-farm shit. It’s all just for PR.”_ _

__Jeff stares back at him._ _

__“And I’m guessing you did it because your Dad promised to make it up to you. So, you get it. Sometimes people do what they have to.”_ _

__They stand there like that for a long time, it seems. Stillness in the centre of the whirl of noise and sand._ _

__Jeff feels something feels something tightening again, inside him. Something he hadn’t noticed had loosened._ _

__The helicopter lands, cuts to neutral, still beating out a deafening chuf-chuf-chuf over them, the horses, the Nevada dust._ _

__Harry edges in closer to Jeff, almost pressing against him. He’s still staring as intently. Jeff feels the soft silk of his blouse fluttering against his arm. Then Harry’s fingers wrap around Jeff’s wrist, slowly tighten._ _

__“I just think we could help each other out, maybe,” he says directly into Jeff’s ear. “Take care of each other.”_ _

__A door swings open in the helicopter, someone jumps out, sweeps around to open the passenger door. Jeff watches the person stretch an arm out to the remaining passenger, sees a hand extend from inside, grab tight._ _

__He looks away, down at his feet. Grainy particles are whipping against his face. One lodges right in his eye. Harry lets go of his wrist._ _

__“Harry.”_ _

__Everything’s gone a bit blurry for Jeff but he blinks hard, manages to clear his vision. Harry’s smart. Jerry saw that. Faster than Jeff did._ _

__Harry’s not looking at him anymore. He’s looking at the helicopter, squinting against the blasting gusts._ _

__Harry's smart._ _

__“Harry,” Jeff starts again, “do you want to meet my Dad?”_ _

__Harry’s face snaps back to Jeff. He’s beaming. “Yeah. I do.”_ _

__Jeff nods once. Walks towards his Dad. “OK then. Come with me.”_ _

__Harry’s not the only one. Jeff’s smart too._ _

__He swipes a knuckle over his eyelid, and manages to push away the wetness pooling there before it rolls down his face._ _


End file.
